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chilly chunk that is not entirely unlike a cat. We
also take a horse-drawn carriage ride near the Top: A terrace at the Carlton St. Moritz
lake, pausing beneath a large conifer to proffer provides panoramic views of the mountains
palmfuls of birdseed to a colony of twittering and the lake.
tits. Feeling their tiny talons tickling my fingers
as they daintily nibble kernels in my hand is one Opposite: The Carlton St. Moritz, built in
of the sweetest encounters I’ve experienced in 1913, evokes the grandeur of the Belle
nature. Epoque.
So far, so fabulous, but Lombriser has one
more treat up his sweater sleeves: a torchlight
hike in the woods. “Torches, as in flashlights?” I
ask, thinking he has adopted the British term.
But no, Lombriser means the flaming sticks
generally associated with angry mobs evicting
vampires from their village.
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